Bond's New Gun
by Xandre
Summary: If there was ever anything that convinced James Bond that Q was at least as crazy as he was intelligent, it was this. One-Shot, just for giggles.


**Bond's New Gun**

_If there was ever anything that convinced James Bond that Q was at least as crazy as he was intelligent, it was this. One-Shot, just for giggles._

_**Q-Branch, MI-6**_

James Bond knew a lot of things. He knew how to crack international encryption, how to get any woman he liked the look of into bed with him, how to drive DB-5 well enough to keep up with a Ferrari thirty years younger than him and how to fire almost any weapon placed in his hands.

What he didn't know was how the Irish had nuclear warheads or how the nut that had stolen one of them had managed to do so without anyone noticing. Then again, it was Ireland. The guards were probably too drunk to notice.

His chuckle at that little joke got Q's attention, who started his briefing once again.

"Now do pay attention this time, double-oh-seven" the aged man said, "Because I am getting tired of explaining all of this to you three or four times in a row."

James just nodded, which Q took to mean he had the spy's attention. Well, for a few minutes anyway. Until he saw what he was going to drive, at least.

"Now, I'm well aware of the situation with Vladymir Von Rootintutin and I've planned accordingly." Q started, leading Bond out into a garage and reaching into his pocket, "Firstly, your new watch. In addition to its remote detonation and built-in LASER, the calendar can also double as a Geiger counter when the time adjustment dial is rotated twice clockwise and pulled out. And after all of those incidents involving water I've decided to spend a little more to get a proper diving watch this time so you won't be trawling around a dead-looking ROLEX after a quick dip."

The two came to an Aston Martin that looked identical to the one he had wrecked not too long ago and Q continued, "Now Bond, the government is tired of you wrecking so many of these things so it pleases me to say that I am going to start charging you for these things. God knows you rake in enough at the casinos."

"That's hardly fair at all. Only _one_ of those was my fault and you know it." Bond replied with a frown as he took the watch and the car keys, "Though you have to give me the irony factor from when I put that BMW through the window of a car rental agency."

"A chuckle that cost us three-quarters of a million pounds, Bond. Honestly, there are days when I have to coerce myself from thinking you see all of this as some kind of spy novel... Or worse still, an action movie..."

Finally the duo came to a nondescript looking case upon a table, the handle facing away from them. Q motioned for Bond to stay at one side and he went to the other.

"Now Bond, I've been looking at alternative firing solutions recently and I came up with this little device." he stated, opening the case and taking out its contents.

"It's a NERF gun." Bond deadpanned with a grimace on his face, "Honestly Q, I really do think you're starting to slip."

Q simply grinned wickedly in response, loaded one of the magazines, cocked the gun and fired a NERF dart all the way to the other end of the room, all of one hundred metres away, and it hit the wall rather than run out of energy and bounce on the floor.

"Under normal circumstances you would be right. However, I have a pen-pal in Alaska who runs a paintball store and he tuned up the internals of it. This thing launches the darts a clear one hundred and fifty metres in ideal conditions and has a full-on semi-auto fire capability you will not find in the local shops."

Q took out the remainder of the magazines and lay them out, and each one contained blue NERF darts with different coloured tips.

"Now Bond, pay very close attention here. Each of these darts is colour-coded for your convenience and after that debacle at the gas works – _quite_ how you mistook that fragmentation grenade for a stun grenade will be forever beyond me – I'm hoping that for _once_ in your career you'll pay attention to my instructions." Q said, taking each magazine in turn as he described them, "These are all on an impact system – meaning the hit something and go off. The Blue-tipped darts are impact-flash-bangs. The Green-tipped ones are an explosive dart with a blast similar to that of an M-67 fragmentation grenade, the yellow-tipped ones break into a micro-syringe that delivers a nonfatal knockout drug while the black ones are similar to the yellow ones, though these instead deliver a beyond-fatal dose of cyanide into the system."

He grinned at that last one, "So_ do_ handle these with care, Bond. For once."

Bond picked up the final magazine, which contained orange-tipped darts.

"So what are these? Gyro jet bullets?"

"Don't be foolish. Those things would melt the gun! No, they're simply some off-the-shelf NERF darts I bought to demonstrate the range of the gun. Honestly Bond, you really do come up with some hare-brained ideas..."

Bond alternated between looking at Q and the gun sceptically before stating once again, "It's a NERF gun."

"Oh stop complaining and just take the bloody thing with you; I can guarantee you'll find some way to break something in a useful way with it. And besides, you still have your handgun, don't you?"

_**Two Weeks Later**_

He hated how Q was right so much of the time. He really did. He'd taken down Von Rootintutin with one of the black-tipped darts, used the blue-tipped ones to disorient the lieutenant crazy enough to take his lady-friend for this mission hostage and used the exploding ones to neutralise the nuclear warhead. That was after a rather hairy conversation with Q, which ended with, "Now really Bond. I've ultimately been right about anything you have ever seen fit to question me over and I feel I will continue to do so until one of us is incapable of arguing with the other."

And what's more, the car wasn't _completely_ wrecked this time around. After all, it still drove and Q only said it had to come back under its own power. Even if it did only have three wheels. And was missing a door. And had some stains on the dash and passenger seat from where he'd gotten passionate with his lady-companion that one time. Q would probably go up the wall over that last one.

**[A/N: Von Rootintutin and the Irish nuke are lifted from the youtube video "Battlefield 4 Trailer" by the user "FlippinDingDong" and Q's Alaskan Pen Pal, if none of you guessed it, is none other than Doc from that frequently crazy webcomic called "The Whiteboard."**

**And folks, read and review if you liked it! Hell, read and review if you didn't. It's always good to know what you folks think...]**


End file.
